


Water and Sun

by paradiamond



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: AU post season 1, F/M, diabolical alice, it’s not really about the plant I promise, jughead’s nice foster family, plant relationship metaphors, pov jughead, relationship stress
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-28
Updated: 2018-10-28
Packaged: 2019-08-08 23:07:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,111
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16438559
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/paradiamond/pseuds/paradiamond
Summary: Alice Cooper, in her infinite insane wisdom, had somehow figured out the quickest way to sabotage his relationship with Betty. It was so smooth Jughead didn’t even notice it until it was too late. The Unity Plant.





	Water and Sun

Archie blinked when Jughead dropped the potted plant down in front of him. “Uh, thanks?” 

Jughead rolled his eyes, crossing the kitchen to open the fridge door. “It’s not for you.” 

“Ouch.” Archie dropped the pizza he was eating to put his hand on his chest, grinning. “Maybe I was excited about this...what is it?” 

Jughead took a big gulp of milk straight from the carton and grimaced. “This expired?” 

“Well to be fair it’s not yours anymore, so.” 

Embarrassingly, Jughead flinched, unable to hide it, and turned back around to stick the gross milk back in the door slot. 

“Sorry.” Archie was frowning at him when he came back to the table. “That was- sorry. How are things, man?” 

Jughead wanted to roll his eyes. “Good. Betty is good, foster family is good even though I don't see them much, school is surprisingly good.” 

“Good.” 

“Yeah, good.” 

Archie looked away, his face pinched, and then looked back. “So, the plant?” 

Jughead groaned and all but fell into one of the rickety kitchen chairs. “Betty's mom gave it to me.”

“Weird.” 

“You have no idea,” Jughead muttered, rubbing at his forehead. “It's called the Unity Plant. Some family tradition she obviously made up. Apparently, the Coopers, or maybe the Irish? I don't know, it wasn't clear. They give these plants to their daughters suitors, or whatever, and I guess I'm the modern equivalent.” 

Archie nodded. “Ok? What's wrong with that-”

“I have to keep the plant alive. It's like a symbol.” 

“Oh.”

“Yeah, it's stupid. Like we need one more thing to worry about.” 

Archie shrugged. “Well Betty can help, right?”

Jughead looked down at the plant. “I guess.”

“Uh oh.” 

He glared. “What?”

“No you ‘what?’ What's going on? I thought you two were good.”

“We are when we see each other.” 

“Oh.”

“Yeah.” Jughead picked at the paint on the vase. The plant itself was a vivid green, all fluffy leaves and healthy. In a few weeks it should have flowers. 

“I don’t know why she would do this to us,” he complained, trying and failing to joke while he tugged at one of the many leaves. “Just watch. After everything, everything we’ve been through this plant is going to be the most stressful thing about our relationship. We were fine, and now we have this stupid plant, and it’s the thing that’s going to tear us apart.” 

“Dude,” Archie said, shaking his head and back to shoveling pizza into his mouth. “That’s ridiculous.” 

After, Jughead shook his head to himself as he tried to balance the plant in its fancy vase in between his legs and steer the motorcycle at the same time. It was his dad’s, obviously, passed down to him like a family relic. It was dumb how good it made him feel, to get that, to get the jacket, to have some tenuous connection to his father and his literal gang, but it did. 

Pack bonding, he thought, annoyed with himself. Actual tribalism. As dumb as the plant itself. 

***

Predictably, Betty was a hit at the foster house. 

She was clean, nice, and always brought food. A triple threat. They loved her there, and therefore they let her do basically whatever she wanted, like be alone in Jughead’s room with him. The only issue was the fact that when he was around, which wasn't much, he shared the room with someone who was not previously sharing a room with anyone and was now politely bitter about it and liked to express himself by refusing to knock. 

So far today though, it had been quiet. Nice. They settled close, legs nearly overlapping on the bed with their feet sticking off the side, pretending to do homework. Betty hummed absently, drawing stars at the corner of her notebook.

She glanced over at the window and paused. Jughead followed her gaze and frowned, spotting the plant looking all sad and neglected on the windowsill. The leaves were turning yellow at the ends and there hadn't been any flowers. 

Betty had laughed when she gave it to him at the end of the Cooper family dinner, curling her fingers around his over the shiny blue vase. “So, really all we have to do it keep it alive.”

“We?” Jughead had raised an eyebrow at her. “You mean me.” 

“Yeah, sorry. That is,” she said, teasing and bright. “Unless you can’t figure it out.”

He had rolled his eyes. “I’m pretty sure I can keep a plant alive, Betty.”

“I know you can!”

Now, she frowned, and Jughead’s heart jumped in his chest as she pushed herself up and off the bed. 

“Have you...been watering this?”

“Yeah, of course.” 

Betty touched it, looking about as lost as he felt whenever he looked at it. Then she let go and hooked a hand on one hip. “Maybe over watering?”

“Could be,” he said, even though he was pretty sure that wasn't a thing, trying to get off the subject. Truth was he had mostly forgotten about it. He should have brought it to the trailer, but hadn't yet. It was dumb anyway. He held out his hands. “Come here.” 

A light went on inside him when she immediately stepped back into his reach, settling down next to him with their hands wrapped together. He hooked his chin on her shoulder, trying not to think past the moment. 

Soon she’d have to go, and he didn't know when he’d see her next. 

***

He didn’t move the plant to the trailer, figuring it was even more likely to die there. But he did end up doing plant research instead of his english homework for most of the night, which was fine since his english teacher loved him for actually caring about writing and he was already working something out with the department head for his book instead of reading The Scarlet Letter and Romeo and Juliet again, but it was still annoying. 

As it turned out, over watering was actually a thing and the plant needed more direct sunlight than his little window could provide, so he asked to move it to the living room, which his foster mother, very nicely, allowed. 

He stopped by as many days as he could to check on the dumb thing too. It was just another task in between school, avoiding the Serpents, and actually getting to spend time with Betty, who was rapidly becoming the one golden thing in his life. 

When he ran his hands through her hair, he felt the hum in his fingers run all the way up his arm and into his chest, warming him from the inside out. They were always matched like this, light to dark, sun to moon. It was all he could do to hope she felt it too. She said a version of it, sometimes, but he hoped she understood. 

“Jug?” 

He blinked and looked up, realizing that he'd been sitting with his hands in her hair in silence for god knows how long. He must have blushed, or winced, because when he pulled away she shifted forward, perfectly in balance. When they were alone it was easy. 

“You ok?” Betty asked, scooting closer on the bed. Even seeing her there, in a bed that wasn’t really his, feeling her hand settle on his leg innocently, set his heart picking up, anticipating her next move. Ever since they’d touched each other with intent in the trailer, it had moved between them like a live wire. One day, it sparked, and they hit each other at full speed, pulling off clothes and pushing together in the dark of his new bedroom.

He hooked a hand on her waist, rubbing circles with his thumb. “I'm good. Just thinking.” 

Betty shifted under his touch, pushing more of herself into him, and he sighed. They'd built what they had piece by piece, carefully, like a house of cards. When they got together he treasured every kiss, every small step closer. Some guys wanted to throw themselves into it, desperate to have everything at once. Jughead always wanted to ease into Betty’s world, gently lower them into the water together. By now, they were in the deep end, and it felt like the simplest thing in the world to lean forward and kiss her. 

Betty humed when their lips touched, feeling the same spark. In times like these he knew she did understand. He knew, and he was still so insecure. It made him nervous, a compounding fracture every time Betty saw through it. How much longer until he could just accept her and let himself be happy? Let her into his life like she's opened up for him. Maybe never. Maybe he was just like this, and the thing she was waiting for would just never come. She would wait and wait while he never got any better than this. 

But then Betty shifted forward, touched his face, and he wanted to break down for her, build them up together. The thought made him sit a little straighter, pour everything he felt into the kiss. Betty responded beautifully, like she always did. He pulled, she pushed. She rolled up on her her knees a bit, matching him. Chest to chest, face to face. He smiled and hooked his hand around the back of her neck, holding her to him. 

It was a fact he held close to his heart that Betty liked that they were almost the same height. It got to the point that she started wearing heels more often to make it happen, picking the scraps from Veronica’s closet. 

Jughead noticed. Noticing things was what he did, and it poked the old wound. Not as tall, not as athletic. Not what most girls wanted, even if Betty clearly decided to take him anyway. He should know that. Should be able to feel it. Trust her. 

He dealt with it like he always did, with humor, and rolled up onto the balls of his feet when she stood next to him one day. Which obviously defeated the purpose, and upset her in a joking, but not quite joking way. Then she explained, blushing, that she liked it when they _matched_. Sometimes he thought that she was just as crazy as he was. 

But then sometimes it felt like they were getting closer and farther apart, their touches desperate. And brief. 

Betty sighed, and leaned away. Something in his chest seized.

“When are you-” he paused to clear his throat. “When are you coming back?”

She blinked at him. “I don't know.”

***

The Unity Plant died. 

It was a slow, painful death. Predictably, being in the living room, the vase got knocked over. Jughead had swung by after school and immediately saw that the plant itself was about half as big as before and now living in one of the plastic tea pitchers instead of the Cooper’s vase. There were five kids in the house and he was by far the oldest, and barely even around, so really it was mostly his fault. 

Bizarrely, Jughead felt like crying when he saw it, that crushing feeling in his chest acting up. His foster mom apologized, which was ridiculous and he told her so. The kid who knocked it over brought him a bunch of weeds from the yard as an apology. It was sweet. He put them in a cup and set it by the window where she would see, and got up to deal with the remains of the plant. 

He brought it outside, sat with it like it was his dog. He watered it the exact right amount, then frowned. The clear plastic showed the dirt, which didn’t change color like it should. Already watered, then. He stood up. 

“Mrs. Kent?” 

“Yes, dear?” 

“Did you water the plant for me?” 

She smiled at him, all kindness. “Of course, I always do.” 

Jughead blinked, his heart sinking in his chest. “Thanks,” he managed, and turned around and walked back out. He gathered it up, took it home, and went to bed. 

When he woke up, he stared at it, his throat closing up. It was so much worse than before. He could hear her. _Unless you can’t figure it out._ Fucking great. 

It was root rot, he was sure of it. They watered it too much, saturating the soil and damaging the roots so badly they couldn’t absorb any of it. Dead from the inside out. 

He pulled out his phone and blinked at it. He and Betty hadn’t talked since....Tuesday? He checked, and yes, it had been five days. He picked at his fingers. He was busy, so was she. They weren’t doing their project anymore. Should the first thing he said to her really be ‘I killed the plant’? He dropped the phone on the bed. 

He got up, grabbed the dead, stupid plant in its plastic grave, and all but ran out of the trailer. 

Of course, there was exactly one flower shop in Riverdale, and it was closed on Sundays. 

Jughead stared up at it, frustration picking at his skin. He wanted to drop the dumb plant in the trash and walk away. He called Archie instead. 

“Walmart has plants, right?”

“What?”

“I killed the plant, dude.”

“What plant?”

Jughead pressed his lips together, suddenly, apocalyptically angry. If he and Betty had been gradually pulled apart by the current, Archie had failed to even wave at him as he floated by. Again. 

“Nothing.” Jughead hung up. 

If he had a phone with internet, he could just look it up. But he didn’t. He downgraded his phone to a much cheaper version, just calls and text. It was either that or sell his computer. 

He bounced on the balls of his feet, nervous and vaguely embarrassed every time someone walked by and glanced at the dried up thing in the crook of his elbow. After a lot of internal debate, he called Veronica. Made something up about wanting to get Betty some flowers and said he wasn’t sure where to go. 

Veronica was quiet for a long beat. “Ok,” she said, slowly, obviously not believing him. It occurred to him that she might be with Archie, who probably would have told her about Jughead’s weird call. 

He closed his eyes. “Uh- you know what? Never mind.”

“No, it’s ok. Have you tried home depot off the highway? It’s not the fanciest place but it might work.”

Jughead stared at the cracks in the sidewalk. He didn't like being pitied, but he probably liked coming off as an asshole less. “Thanks.”

***

Somewhat predictably, Betty found him about to try to climb the fence to the plant section of home depot. 

“What are you doing?”

He froze, one leg hitched up, the dead plant at his feet. It had been weird, only seeing her so often when they used to see each other every day. Now it was like he was getting used to it, which was worse. Seeing her now was a shock. “Uh-”

Betty boggled at him, her hands jammed down in the pockets of her coat. “Get down from there!” 

“Ok, shit-” He slid down, landing a bit awkwardly, and knocking over the plant. It rolled into the parking lot, stopping on its side near his bike, and he glared at it. 

Betty followed his gaze. Then she looked at the fence, and the plants beyond the fence. “Oh.”

Jughead rubbed the back of his hand over his eyes. He didn't bother to get the plant out of the street. “Yeah.”

“Ok, just-” She darted out into the parking lot and scooped the pathetic mess up, ice tea pitcher and all. Scratched now too, which was great since it didn’t even belong to him. 

“You can’t fix it,” he said, and was surprised to hear his own voice shake. 

Betty straightened up and stared at him, wide eyed. 

“It’s broken. I killed it, so you can’t fix it. It is unfixable. It- what are you doing?”

Betty shot him a withering glance as she turned the pitcher over the trashcan next to the shopping carts, dumping the plant carcass inside. Jughead breathed hard, his breath coming in harsh white clouds. Betty turned back, hands on her hips in her thick coat and her cheeks all pink. 

“Ok. How much have you been stressing out over this stupid plant?”

Jughead blinked, then he laughed, doubling over. 

***

They ended up at Pop’s, as always. 

Betty pulled out a piece of notebook paper out of her pocket with ‘Jughead’ written at the top and a list of seemingly random words underneath it. He blinked down at it, trying to make sense of the pattern. “Uh- This is just stuff I like? Or have to do?”

“It’s stuff we like, or that I think can can do together?” Betty said, like a question. 

Jughead blinked. “Oh.”

“Yeah. I’ve been trying to come up with-”

“You think we have to force this?” He brandished the paper. “Make up activities?”

Her eyebrows flew up. “I think we have to work at our relationship. I think that it’s probably better than just letting it fade, or trying to make it come down to a plant,” she threw back, nodding at the filthy tea pitcher. Jughead pulled it a little closer, and immediately felt like a child. He let it go. 

“I want things to go back to the way they were.”

“When things were easy.”

“Yeah.”

“Me too.”

Jughead rubbed a hand over his eyes. “But it can’t, because it doesn’t work like that, I know.”

Betty bit her lip. “Making it work is an active thing. It’s a behavior.”

“I know.” 

“Do you?”

Jughead looked at her in silence for a long moment. Minutes. Betty sat through it, not blinking, not flinching. He let out a shaking breath, and nodded. “Yeah.” 

They talked about it, made plans. Betty was good with plans, like he was good with ideas. Ideally, they would run away, just the two of them against the world, and everything would work out, and everything would stay easy, just like this. 

Instead, they argued, playfully, and pushed closer together. Jughead didn’t let any of the words bother him, they had lost their edge, the sharp taste of fear in the back of his mouth was gone. 

“No more plants?”

“Yeah, I don’t think we need to subject anymore plants to you-”

“It wasn’t my fault!”

Betty laughed, like water over rocks, soothing. “Really?”

“Really!” He grinned. “But I do think that we need- I mean, your mom.”

“Oh,” Betty smiled back. “We are definitely getting another plant!”

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading! 
> 
> if you'd like, paradiamond.tumblr.com (:


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